#this has been sitting in my inbox for two months; sorry for the wait and thank you for waiting!!

[codedparaiso]

@picavecalyx / 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. surry tu disappuint.

he looks at her, at those words. perhaps the first direct look he has given her since their meeting that isn't of analysis or cold interest. his codes paint the mimicry of confusion on his face, the automatic physical response the professor would have had to avoid having a copy of himself that simply would look at everything with the same distant expression. it can't be called actual confusion for him, though. just a delay in his processors, failing to connect her words to his work.

nothing of him is truly real. he wonders if that is the cause of that peculiar choice of words.

« you did not disappoint. »

his eyes linger in hers, an empty stare inside hers so full of emotions. he doesn't smile, because he doesn't understand why he should, but he does rest the medical instruments on the table and fully turns towards her. she's sitting on the medical bed of area zero's infirmary, where no one had sat in years, and his exams were to confirm she is not a glitch. she, after all, simply was there, all of a sudden.

« why do you think you did? »

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[cherierot]

message in a bottle ✹ op81 × fem!reader

previous | next

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

genre: slow burn enemies (but actually misunderstanding) to Besties to Lovers emotional damage with a side of banter social anxiety-core. smau x irl

chapter warnings: smoking, slight hints of depression, reference to past suicide ideation, themes of unresolved trauma, emotional repression (?), jetlag, dissociation (lol), accidental hose attack + 81% chance of hypothermia, for more content warning check linked masterlist above

synopis: once, he saved your life with shaking hands and a bad autograph. now, years later, you stand in his orbit—hattie's best friend with a half-healed heart and a wrist tattoo he'll never notice. he doesn't remember you. you never forgot him. It's messy. It's slow. It's everything and nothing at all.

author notes: so so sorry for the long wait, I mean with my personal life tearing me apart, writing is cathartic to me rn, but sadly I keep breaking my laptop, it refuses to say in one piece ya'll. but good news is, I have decided to say adios to my eyesight and light in from my phone (yay?!)

chapter one : sub rosa

➔ ❝ ...𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 ❞

You smoke out the window like it’s a ritual, watching the smoke curl up and disappear, the bitter drag of it filling the hollow parts you pretend don’t exist. The sky outside is dull, that late-winter grey that makes everything feel like it’s waiting for something to happen. Your inbox is full of unread emails, half-written assignments, and one string of voice notes from Hattie, each more dramatic than the last.

"I haven’t seen you in forever. Come visit me, please, I’ll die if you don’t—"

Then laughter. That sharp, untouchable kind of laughter that sounds like it belongs to people who aren’t tired like you. People like Hattie, whose orbit has always been bright and fast and full of noise.

You didn’t say no. Mostly because you didn’t have the energy to. Mostly because staying here another week, alone in this airless flat, feels like a worse kind of drowning.

You’re three days into ignoring your coursework. Two days into skipping meals on accident. One week into letting the dirty mugs stack up on your desk like some pathetic little monument to inertia. You know exactly what Hattie would say if she saw it. You can almost hear her voice in your head now, “Get up. Do something. Put on lipstick. We’re going out.”

You stub the cigarette out against the chipped brick of the window frame and watch the ash scatter like it’s trying to leave you too.

The thing is.....you miss her.

Hattie.

Her messy bedroom floor and her bad playlist choices and her habit of making everything feel urgent and impossible and alive. It’s been months since you’ve seen her. Since she hugged you too tight and told you she hated how small your wrists felt.

So when she begged you to visit, you said yes without thinking. Without asking who else might be there. Without giving yourself time to spiral about the possibility of running into—

No. You don’t go there.

You press the thought down like you’ve learned to press down every other stupid, sentimental, self-destructive thought.

This is about Hattie. About seeing her. About pretending you’re still capable of being someone who shows up for people.

The airport is exactly how you remember it: cold, too bright, and full of people pretending they’re going somewhere important. You move through it like a ghost, sneakers sticking on cheap tile, your backpack too heavy on one shoulder.

At security, you stand barefoot on the cold floor, arms out like a crime scene silhouette, while a stranger waves a plastic wand over your body like they’re trying to find something worth keeping.

The flight itself is short. Forgettable.

You sit by the window and let your headphones play the same three songs on repeat. Eyes on the clouds, fingers restless in your lap, heart doing that stupid, aching thing where it feels both too fast and too slow at once.

By the time you land, your phone’s at 9%, and Hattie’s already sent three texts:

"Where r u??"

"Do you want me to pick you up or are you getting a cab??"

"Also slight thing forgot to tell you something but lol nvm see you soon xoxo"

Your mouth twitched slightly, suppressing a slight smile. You don't reply.

You just grab your bag, sling it over one shoulder, and step out into the thick, summer heat of a city you haven’t been back to in over a year.

Not knowing that somewhere, across town, he’s already home too.

Hattie’s already waiting at arrivals when you step out, standing on top of a metal bench like she’s trying to summon an audience. She’s waving both arms like she’s directing air traffic, wearing sunglasses too big for her face and grinning like she’s just won something.

You pause for half a second at the sight of her—because no matter how tired you are, no matter how much your body feels like a half-charged phone, she still makes you smile like muscle memory.

"Oh my god, you’re alive!" she yells, way too loud for an airport.

A few strangers turn. You duck your head and walk faster.

She meets you halfway, launching herself at you with zero warning and enough force to make your carry-on bag swing off your shoulder.

"You smell like airplane and room freshener." she says into your hair, still hugging you like she doesn’t care that you’re awkward and stiff and slow to hug back.

"You smell like bad descisions and Red Bull." you mutter.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, fake-offended.

"Rude." she paused, gripping your forearms to pull you back in for another, "but not wrong."

The car she drives now is the same one she had back in high school.

A dented, sun-faded with a temperamental stereo and a cracked dashboard she once tried to cover with pokemon stickers. The passenger seat still leans too far back from that one night she let you crash there when you didn’t want to go home.

The seatbelt lock sticks. The air conditioning rattles like it’s got lungs full of dust.

But she drives it like it’s a chariot. Like every scrape on the paint is a badge of honor.

"Still haven’t gotten that fixed?" you ask, yanking at the stubborn seatbelt until it clicks.

"Charm, babe," she says, patting the dash like it’s a living thing. "This car’s got character."

She tosses your bag into the back with zero ceremony and climbs behind the wheel like she’s racing a countdown clock. The engine groans, then catches like it always does, like it’s trying one last time not to die on her.

"I got us snacks for the drive," she announces, grabbing a half-crushed bag of chips from the floor between her feet.

"Are they edible?"

"Debatable," she grins. "But it’s the thought that counts."

You settle in, letting the seat swallow you whole. The road stretches out in front of you, dust and sun and familiar turns you haven’t taken in far too long.

Hattie talks the whole way. About her classes. Her neighbors. The dog her mom’s thinking about adopting.

You let her comforting voice fill the car like music.

While you watch the sky shift from airport grey to something just slightly gold at the edges.

░░░░░░░ ✸

The drive is longer than you remember.

Or maybe it just feels that way because every street, every stretch of cracked pavement, carries something you’ve spent years trying to forget.

The closer you get to their house, the tighter your chest pulls.

The ghost of seventeen sitting shotgun with you, chewing on memories like gum you can’t spit out.

By the time Hattie pulls into the driveway, the sky’s bruised with late afternoon sun, and the house stands there looking exactly the same. Same chipped paint near the garage. Same uneven patch of grass near the mailbox. Same front steps where you sat one night with shaking hands and lungs too full of panic to breathe properly.

You blink hard, like that’ll stop the memories from clawing their way up your throat.

It doesn’t work.

Hattie’s already out of the car, grabbing your bag like it’s nothing, yelling over her shoulder about snacks and sun and how her mom made dessert just because you’re coming.

"Mum’s out, but she said to help yourself to snacks. Oh and if you break something, just blame me," Hattie’s said, already heading over to the house and kicking off her shoes.

You climb out slower, shoulders tight, heart heavy with nostalgia and another unknown emotion.

The air smells like summer and cut grass and something painfully familiar.

You barely get three steps toward the house when it happens.

A sharp blast of cold—sharp enough to steal your breath.

Water. Full-force. Right in the face.

You stumble back with a yelp, arms flailing, mouth open in shocked protest. Your shirt clings instantly to your skin, your shoes squelch against the driveway, and your hair drips into your eyes like the universe just slammed a bucket over your head.

It takes you two full seconds to realize what’s happening.

Another two seconds to process why.

And then—

You hear him.

"Shit-shit I'm so sorry."

You swipe water out of your eyes just in time to see him:

Oscar.

Standing a few meters away near the side of the house, holding a green garden hose like he’s just been caught committing a crime.

There’s a half-coiled mess of hose at his feet.

A patch of wet concrete where he was probably cleaning something… watering something… doing some dumb, harmless chore until you became collateral damage.

His face goes bright red.

Like full, sunburn-instantly kind of red.

He looks absolutely horrified—but also like he’s fighting the urge to laugh because the situation is objectively ridiculous.

"I—Jesus—I didn’t see you—"

He’s already fumbling to turn off the nozzle, stepping on the hose by accident, making the water spray even more before he finally gets it under control.

"I was—cleaning the patio! I didn’t—You—Wow, you’re… yeah. Properly soaked."

He scratches the back of his neck, awkward and sheepish and every bit the boy you remember, just… older now.

And The worst part, the truly stupid, gut-twisting part? Is that he dosent recognize you.

Your left hand instinctively twitches, just slightly.

Not even a flicker of recognition behind his smile.

Just that classic Oscar Piastri look of "haha oops my bad" mixed with "please someone end this social interaction immediately."

Hattie, from the porch, absolutely loses it laughing.

You stand there, dripping, heart in your throat, staring at the boy who saved your life once…

... Who also happens to be the one who just accidentally drowned you with a garden hose giving you a 'warm' welcome.

You blink at him.

Water dripping from your chin.

Your clothes sticking in all the worst places.

And for one stupid, self-destructive second, you consider saying his name.

Just to see if it lands.

Just to see if anything flickers in that clueless face of his.

But you don’t.

You’ve played this game before.

So instead, you force a breath through your lungs, swipe wet hair out of your eyes, and smile—tight and sarcastic and just a little feral at the edges.

"Cool. Love this. Really missed this climate change simulation experience," you say, gesturing down at yourself like a tragic weather report.

Oscar lets out this small, nervous laugh—too high, too boyish, like he doesn’t know where to put his hands or his eyes.

"Honestly… fair. That was—yeah. That’s on me," he says, already backing up a step like distance will make this less embarrassing for him. "Do you—uh—want a towel? Or…like… new clothes? I think Hattie’s got stuff? Or—"

"You think? Wow, very reassuring," you deadpan, but there’s no real heat in it.

Hattie’s still doubled over laughing from the porch.

"Bro I’m never letting you live this down," she wheezes at Oscar. Then, to you: "C’mon, come inside, I’ll get you something dry. You’re gonna catch a cold and it’ll be his fault, which honestly? Hilarious for me."

You follow her in.

Dripping the whole way.

Oscar stands there for a second longer, scratching the back of his neck, cheeks still pink, before finally turning back to whatever disaster project he was in the middle of.

Inside, the house is warm in that too-many-people, too-many-memories kind of way.

The air smells like whatever Hattie’s momz Nicole, was baking earlier.

There’s music playing faintly from someone’s phone speaker in another room.

Laughter from down the hall.

Normal.

Like that whole embarrassing, heart-stopping, water-soaked moment never even happened.

Hattie throws you a dry oversized hoodie and a pair of leggings, and you changed in the bathroom with your heart still racing in your throat.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a second too long.

Hair damp and messy.

Neck flushed pink from sun and nerves.

You looked like a girl trying way too hard to look unbothered.

You roll your eyes at your reflection.

Stuff it all down.

Smile like none of this means anything at all.

When you step back out into the hallway, back into the noise, the laughter, the small talk.

You do it like you’re not drowning all over again

░░░░░░░ ✸

There’s clean laundry mixed with dirty laundry like they’re negotiating a peace treaty on the floor. Her desk’s buried under a pile of textbooks and skincare empties. Three different water bottles sit abandoned like ghosts of hydration attempts past.

You throw yourself dramatically onto her bed anyway, half-damp and still slightly cold from earlier. The oversized hoodie she gave you swallows your hands, sleeves hanging like emotional armor.

Hattie flops down next to you with all the grace of a dropped bowling ball.

"Sooo," she starts, already smiling way too wide. "How’s it feel to be back? Aside from the whole… accidental drowning thing."

You groan into her pillow. "Yeah, loving the full theme park experience. Got the welcome spray package and everything."

She laughs—loud, bright, no filter like always.

"Honestly? Worth the wait just to see your face when it hit you. Like, peak betrayal. If I’d had my phone out? I would have sent it to the group chat, they would have loved it."

You glare at her. "I hate you."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately."

You steal a gummy worm from the open bag near her nightstand like you’ve earned it.

You catch up in the lazy, sprawling way you always do.

You giving vague updates about uni that make your life sound way less lonely than it actually is.

Her complaining about the boys in her classes who look like 'sewer rats'.

She tell you about her most recent situationship—a disaster with a dude in her media studies group who thought 'boundaries' was a suggestion, not a rule.

It’s easy to fall back into this.

Like muscle memory.

Like you’re both still seventeen and none of the hard stuff ever happened.

And then, because Hattie can’t help herself, she drops it:

"Also, in case you somehow missed it... Oscar’s home for some time."

You snort.

Because obviously you knew.

"Yeah," you say casually, popping another gummy worm into your mouth. "Kinda figured when he turned the garden hose into a tactical weapon."

"God, I’m still laughing," she grins. "He’s helping Dad with the yard and stuff. I think it’s some weird post-season coping thing. Like… manual labor therapy? Or avoidance of sitting still for more than five minutes? Classic Oscar stuff."

You hum like you’re only half listening.

Even though your stomach does this stupid twist at the mention of him.

Hattie keeps going, all fond and oblivious.

"You’ll probably see him around. Just… ignore him if he’s weird. You know how he is. Social skills set to ‘buffering.’"

"Yeah," you say again, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s suddenly fascinating. "Not like I’m new to that."

Hattie doesn’t catch the double meaning.

Why would she?

To her, Oscar’s just her brother.

To you…

Well.

That’s a whole different story.

░░░░░░ ✹

The house is dark.

That kind of late-night stillness that feels like it’s holding its breath.

Your phone screen says 4:07 AM, glowing pale and too bright in the dark.

Jetlag sits thick and restless in your body, too tired to sleep, too wired to stay still.

You’ve already flipped the pillow over twice. The blanket feels both too much and not enough.

By 4:12, you give up.

You shuffle through the hallway, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, socks making soft sounds against the floorboards.

The air smells like dust and eucalyptus and leftover summer heat trapped in old wood.

You’re halfway to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and more ghost than person, when you catch the faintest sound of running water ahead.

The fridge door’s open. Light spills across the floor and there he is.

Back turned at first. Shoulders hunched. Hoodie hanging loose off him like he got dressed in the dark.

His hair’s a mess, flattened on one side and sticking up wildly on the other, like sleep never sat still on him for long.

You stop in the doorway.

He moves like muscle memory—grabbing a glass, filling it at the sink with slow, lazy movements.

Till he finally turns.

Eyes lift.

Land on you.

For one too-long second, he just… blinks.

Like you startled him awake. Like it takes him a full heartbeat to register you standing there in Hattie’s ridiculous borrowed hoodie, with a 'not today' and a dog in a sunglass printed in front, hair slightly damp, looking as tired as you feel.

The fridge door clicks shut behind him.

Neither of you says anything.

Just…

Something heavy and strange and unnameable sits between you.

But you don't dare look away.

That look.

The air shifts.

taglist : @karlosslanders @plastrizz @charlottes-ngvot @siennaluvshcky @cinderellawithashoe @zannete @lonelyladyghost @agaabara @utopiakys @elisaa-shelby @cdej6 @mits-vi @agaabara @wilmonyibo7 @haunteddestinykryptonite@edgyficuselastica@dollyvuu @shadowreader07

@cherierot 2025 all rights reserved

lmao first time I posted this—I forgot the tags🤡

[allisluv]

this is a random idea, and you totally dont have to write it if you arent comfortable but could i maybe request a oneshot about reader who sh with finnick and like they havent had sex yet because she doesnt want him to see her scars and its just lots of comfort and really fluffy?

good things come to those who wait.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!victor!reader

content warnings: this work contains topics regarding self-harm and scars, however nothing is graphic at all, and this is mainly focused on the comfort aspect of things. finnick is a sweetie pie, pre-established relationship, mentions of sex but nothing intimate, hurt/comfort.

word count: 1.0k

author's note: this is a topic that really hits home with me, and my intentions are never and will never be to offend anyone. my inbox and dm's are always open. this work is purely made to help people feel less alone, not to romanticise any topics covered.

Finnick has always been ever so sweet with you. He has never once made you feel pressured into doing anything you weren’t ready for, and that’s one of the many things that separate him from your past boyfriends. 

You know he would never even think about judging you for the scars on your thighs but no matter how much you reassure yourself that he wouldn’t mind, there is still that tiny voice in the back of your head that says, “What if?”

You’re seven months into your relationship with Finnick when you decide that it’s best you sit him down and have a conversation with him about how youre feeling. Things are starting to get serious and you can tell that despite his gentleness and his patience, he’s beginning to worry that there’s another reason for why you havent slept with him yet. Finnick opened up to you about his sexual trauma in the Capitol pretty early on into your relationship and you don’t want him to worry that you think he’s “broken” or “damaged goods” and that’s why you haven’t slept with each other yet, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

You think Finnick is without a doubt the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on— but he’s so much more than that, too. Hes considerate and thoughtful and caring and kind and you don’t want to ever make him think he’s not good enough. 

So despite your anxiety, you push through and anxiously wait on the sofa for Finnick to return home from his dip in the ocean. 

Your heart is thudding against your ribcage so fast that you fear it may jump straight out of your chest. The front door opens and shuts before Finnick calls out your name. 

“Im in here!” You shout back, focusing all your effort on keeping your voice steady and calm. 

Finnick peeks his head into the living room and smiles. Two dimples poke into his cheeks, one on either side of his mouth, as he grabs a beach towel off the radiator and starts to dry himself off. He’s caught off guard when you don’t immediately start chastising him for dripping water in the house, and that is the first thing that sends bells off in his head. “Angel? You okay?” 

You suck in a steadying breath and pat the sofa next to you. “Can we talk?” Finnick’s mind starts whirring into overdrive as he worries that you might be breaking this off with him, and you instantly backtrack when you see the panic on his face. “No, no, I’m sorry. Don’t panic, I just need to tell you something. It’s nothing bad, Finnick, I promise.”

He seems to relax a little at your comforting words but his steps are still tentative as he crosses the room and sits down on the sofa next to you. “Alright,” He says warily. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You know this is going to be an awkward conversation to have, but both you and Finnick agreed that communication was key to maintaining a healthy relationship. You figure you might as well be honest and get this over with. There’s no point in beating around the bush so you come right out and say it as bluntly as possible. “I wanted to talk about why we haven’t had sex yet. I mean, that’s something you want, right?”

Finnick nods reassuringly. “Of course it is but only when you’re ready. I don’t want you feeling pressured into it.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “I want to. God, I really, really want to. I’m just scared.” 

Finnick tilts his head to one side but slowly reaches out to grab your hand. He intertwines your fingers together. “Okay. What are you scared of, angel?”

It takes everything in you not to burst into tears and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before talking aloud. “I have scars. On my thighs.”

Realisation dawns on Finnick but he doesn’t open his mouth to say anything. Instead, he nods to show that he is listening, and squeezes your hand to encourage you to continue. 

“I was going through a really tough time after I won my games. I turned to some… well, less than healthy coping mechanisms. I’m better now. I haven’t done… that, in a good few years. But I still have scars from it.” You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes trained on a spot on the floor in front of you. “I know you wouldn’t judge me but I was just scared that you’d think I was damaged or—”

“Okay, let me stop you there.” Finnick cuts in. His voice is stern but soft. “Angel, some scars don’t scare me, and they certainly don’t make me think you’re anything less than beautiful. All it does is tell me how resilient my girl is. I would never think less of you for this. I need you to know that, alright?” 

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. “No, I know that, I just— I don’t know. I was scared you were gonna leave me.” 

Finnick uses his free hand to smooth your hair off your forehead. “I know, angel, I know,” He murmurs. “Youre not gonna get rid of me that easily, okay? I’m in this for the long haul.” He smiles softly and knocks his shoulder into yours. 

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you finally make eye contact with him. “You’re not saying this just to make me feel better, right?”

Finnick scoffs but his voice is full of affection when he speaks. “Angel, you should know by now that I’m gonna tell you the truth, regardless of if you want to hear it or not.”

You chuckle. “Fair point, well made.” You hesitate. “So, you know, just to clarify, you do want to sleep with me?”

Finnick grins. “More than anything. But we’re gonna do this at your pace, okay? We’re gonna take it as slow as you need.”

Your lips tug downwards into a frown. “You don’t mind waiting?”

Finnick pecks your forehead. “You know what they say, good things come to those who wait.” He pauses. “And, angel?”

“Mhm?” 

“Scars or not, I still think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

[rubiehart]

hi! ‘m not sure if you’re taking requests rn but i had this thought of jj x waitress!reader, like she’s just trying to take their order and he won’t stop flirting with her. love love love your work!!

i think this request has been sitting in my inbox for over two months i’m soo sorry i’m only just getting to it now. love u nonnie!

you’re working the bar, turns out bussin tables wasn’t your strong suit when the locals would get a little too persistent towards you and you’d go off, snarky little comments that’s just piss them off in turn, you just couldn’t help it.

it’s another gloomy day at work, wiping the counter with some dirty rag that was probably doing more harm than good, but it was just so boring, until the little bell rings above the door signaling an enterance of someone new, eyes springing up from the counter as the boy walks in.

he was cute, fairly buff, red cap rested atop his sun damaged blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, you did a double take and sharply looked away when he began walking towards you, reaching for a glass and cleaning it with the same rag, as he sinks down into the bar stool directly in-front of you. “that rag don’t look very sanitary to me.” he smirks, waiting for you to catch his eye but you don’t. “no shit.” you mumble, internally rolling your eyes but refraining.

“woah.” he chuckles putting his hands up in surrender, which only makes you more pissed. “got a little fire in you, my bad.” you just flick your eyes up to him, clearly unamused. “what do you want?” slamming the glass down onto the beer mat, resting one hand on the beer taps.

“bold of you to assume i want a beer.” he shrugs, not loosing his playful tone even after being shot down so many times, you’ve gotta applaud his confidence. “so natty light?” you ask, fed up of his antics as his smirk only grows wider. "another assumption.” he assess.

“listen, you look poor, natty light’s target consumer. so yes or no?” you ask, and he scoffs. “natty light please.” and you nod, bending down to grab one from the fridge under the counter. you slide it across to him and he hands you a pile of coins, you roll your eyes and start counting it.

he cracks open the tab and takes a long sip before speaking again. “so, what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ working’ at this shit shack?” he leans forward, flashing that charming smile. “what’s it to y’a?” you mumble and he hisses. “you’re stubborn.” he adds and you nod. “y’a think?” you ask sarcastically and he smiles, before you look at him again.

“you’re 25 cents short.” you nod towards the pile of coins, he tongues the cut on his lip and sighs. “tell you what? consider this payment.” he says before reaching for your hand, turning it over and scrawling something on your palm, dropping the pen onto the counter top and winking, taking the can with him before the bell above the door rings again fo signal his departure before you can even get a word of protest in.

he’d written his number on your palm, in possibly the worst handwriting you’d ever seen, wondering how you were gonna decipher this shit later. you finally let the smile creep onto your face that you’d been holding, you were calling, no doubt about it.

[platin-amide]

So you take requests? May I ask you to draw Eri?

whoa this ask has been sitting in my inbox for more than two months, sorry for the wait! I couldn't decide which Eri to draw so I drew both. Enjoy!

[sugrhigh]

FIRST OF MANY - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you and matt have been dating for over a month now, and you’ve never had sex. his curiosity gets the best of him while you’re watching a romcom, and you find out he’s actually a virgin.

warnings- swearing, virgin!matt, technically unprotected sex, smut at the end (lmk if i missed shit)

virgin!matt x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first req that i’ve ever done, so THANK U TO THE ANON WHO LEFT IT i hope it lives up to your expectations ❤️ if u have ideas drop them in my inbox ! all da love

there is literally nothing matt likes more than spending the night in with his girlfriend, as corny as it might sound. it’s been well over a month of dating now, and he still can’t get enough of you.

the warmth of your body is comforting as you lay beside him on the sofa, dressed down in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. he has one steady arm wrapped around your shoulder so he can hold you against his chest.

he breathes you in as his fingers skim absentmindedly up and down your exposed bicep, a familiar mixture of laundry detergent and citrus shampoo.

“that feels nice.” you mumble into his shirt, eyes still glued to the tv.

you’re forcing him to watch friends with benefits, since he picked the last movie and you were in dire need of a romcom fix. it’s one of your favorites, mainly because you loved mila kunis so much in that 70s show.

it’s only been on for roughly thirty minutes, but matt’s been enjoying it way more than he expected considering this genre is not his norm. he’s even let out a couple laughs at the scripted jokes.

the main characters are in bed together again, rolling around as they banter back and forth about sleeping with each other. it sparks a fire of curiosity inside of him as he continues to stare at the screen.

“is this really what it’s like?” he asks without thinking, and he immediately regrets his words as you tilt your head to look up at him curiously.

“what, the sex? don’t act like you don’t know.” you say, playfully smacking him with the back of your hand.

matt isn't sure why he brought it up, but he figures now is as good a time as any to have this dreadful conversation.

“how could i know if i’ve never done it?”

he feels you tense up slightly under his arm, which scares him. the last thing he wants you to think is that he’s some sort of loser. he just hadn’t found anyone that he really wanted to be intimate with before he met you.

it’s not like you guys don’t fool around sometimes. he’s perfectly capable of using both his hands and his mouth; this is a fact you’ve been made well aware of.

you two just haven’t gone all the way yet, especially considering you hardly ever get real alone time together.

“you don’t have to lie about the girls you’ve been with just because we’re dating now.” you finally respond, quieter than before.

“oh my god, i’m telling the truth, so please don’t make me say it again.” he can’t look at you anymore, because he’s too embarrassed.

this makes you fully sit up in shock, no longer focused on the premise of the film. he can feel you staring at the side of his beet red face, clearly confused by this revelation.

“wait, are you seriously telling me that you’re a virgin?” you question.

matt glances back at you and crosses his arms defensively, because it suddenly feels like he’s under attack. “you’re making me seem like a freak or something.”

he watches your eyes soften as you put a tentative hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that you weren’t making fun of him.

“shit, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just…really surprising, that’s all.”

“surprising how?”

you pull your lips between your teeth, exhaling through your nose as you try and find the right words.

“well we’ve done stuff before, and you were just naturally good at it, so i assumed you’d learned from hooking up with other people. and i know girls must have liked you with a face like that.”

this boosts his ego, and he’s already in a much better mood knowing he’s at least made you feel good in the past. that doesn’t mean he’s not still terrified, but he’s a little more confident than he was before.

“nope, not really. you’re the only one i’ve ever done that kind of thing with, aside from a little making out.” matt admits with a shrug.

your lips part, and it’s making you feel all fluttery.

“wow.”

he smiles a little bit. “i don’t know what that means.”

“it doesn’t mean anything really. i’ve only had sex a few times, and it doesn’t change anything either way.” you move your hand up and down his arm a little bit.

the tv plays in the background, and your mind flits to his original question.

“are you curious? is that why you asked?” you tilt you head toward the screen, though you keep your focus on him.

his eyes go a little wide, and the feeling of your hand on his arm suddenly becomes overwhelming.

“yeah, i—uh, i guess i am.” matt stumbles over his words, and your fingers travel higher to run through his hair slowly.

“you don’t have to be nervous. you can ask me anything you want, i’m not gonna judge.” you say softly.

your fingernails raking along his scalp makes him shudder slightly, a response that you both enjoy.

“i’m…more of a hands-on learner.” he rasps.

you let your fingers travel to rest on the back of his neck, drawing him in for a soft kiss. it’s short and sweet, and his eyelids flutter a bit as you pull away.

“what do you want to do?”

he pauses for a moment before deciding to give in and say what’s on his mind. “nick and chris aren’t home. maybe we should go to my room?”

you grin, nodding your head like you’re in a trance. you’re both trying to hide your giddiness as you scramble off of the couch, carelessly tossing the blankets aside.

you can feel him staring at your ass as you lead him through the hall, and he gives it a little smack of appreciation.

“matthew sturniolo!” you laugh, turning the doorknob to his bedroom.

it greets you warmly, and you always love it because the whole place smells like him. the overhead light is off; it’s just the singular lamp casting warm rays across the mattress.

“couldn’t help it.” he says, smile prominent in his tone as he locks the door behind you.

you slow to a stop at the foot of his bed, and he stands at your side, hand intertwined in yours. it makes your heart swell as he admires you with those charming eyes.

“are you sure? we really don’t have to, there’s no rush.” you squeeze his palm reassuringly.

matt lets go just so he can hold your head, kissing you hard as an answer. you literally can’t help but beam into his lips, and you put one hand on his chest to push him against his silk sheets.

he falls onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows so he can keep looking at you. you crawl on top of him, slowly settling on his hips.

he sucks in a shaky breath as you shift against him to get comfortable. you can feel matt growing harder beneath you as you lean down to give him another swift kiss, letting his mouth melt against yours.

then you move to his earlobe, pressing your lips to the hollow part of his neck. you swipe your tongue against his skin, biting down just a bit so you can suck on the area slightly.

he groans, laying down now so he can move his hands to grip your ass, pushing you against him harder to feel a little more friction. the thin material of your sweatpants doesn’t hide a whole lot, and he’s straining against you now.

“you’re so cute, baby.” you say against his skin, and his hands go to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your hips.

you lift your hands from his chest so he can fully remove it, leaving you in your stretchy black bralette.

“god, you’re unreal.” he breathes, and you guide his palms to cup each of your breasts, still rocking against him slightly as you straddle him.

you can feel him squeeze your nipples between his middle and pointer fingers, whimpering below you as he starts to get worked up. you’re growing wet by the second, the delicious feeling of his clothed dick rubbing against you sending shocks of satisfaction right to your core.

“do you wanna keep going?” you ask, just to make sure he’s still on board.

“please.” he begs.

you move his shirt up his chest, and matt sits just high enough to rip it over his head. you trace the tattoos on his arm faintly, trailing a finger down the center of his stomach till you hit the waistline of his sweats.

“you’re terrifying.” he smiles as you slip your hand under the band of his boxers, slowly scratching the area gently.

“why?” you ask.

he grabs your waist and flips you so you’re the one on your back, feet hanging over the edge of the bed as he stands.

“because everything you do is perfect.” he says, and this time he’s the one that goes to your pants, grabbing the soft material and looking at you for permission.

“that is so not true.” you grin as you lift yourself up to help him.

he strips them off your legs and tosses them away blindly, so you’re left in your matching thong. the spandex-like material hugs your sides, the last layer standing between what you both truly want.

“i mean look at you.” he sounds dumbfounded as he gazes at your body, and you feel your face flush from the attention.

“trust me, i’m the one who’s punching.” you reply as he strips down to his boxers, dick clearly pressing against the plaid cloth. you’ve seen it before, on two occasions to be exact.

both of those experiences were great, and you didn’t know that was the first time a girl had ever given him head. now you know this is the first time he’s having sex, and even though it’s not the same for you, you’re still a bit nervous.

matt’s a little above average, and the last and only person you’ve ever done it with is your ex, so it’s been a minute. even so, you’re so enthralled with your boyfriend that you can’t help but pulse in excitement.

he pushes your legs apart with his palms, and air rushes across the wet spot that’s already formed over your panties. two fingers press against the fabric covering your heat, which shocks a gasp out of you. he moves them in a little circular pattern, applying more pressure so he can really feel you.

“love your fingers,” you rock with his pace, speaking through a moan, “but i wanna make you feel good too.”

“oh, okay. so i should…” he stops his motions to go for his own underwear, finally sliding them down so his hard length springs free.

you’re already working your own bottoms down your thighs, and he finishes the job for you once his hands are free.

“do you have a condom?”

“uh, shit…” you can tell by the solemn look that crosses his face that he doesn’t, and you let out a short laugh.

“it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m on birth control. we’ll be more prepared next time.”

his eyebrows shoot up before he can help it. next time. just the confirmation that this will happen again makes him disgustingly happy.

you wiggle up on the bed a little bit, so he has enough room to hover on top of you. he leans down a few more inches to give you a kiss, and you can tell he’s unsure what to do next, so you take control.

“don’t put it inside yet, just slide it against me a few times.” you try and instruct, and he follows well, dragging the base of his shaft up and down your wet cunt.

you let out a little noise of pleasure, and he wants to save it as a sound bite in his memory.

“okay, slowly, go ahead.” you say after a few more seconds spent enjoying the feeling, and both of you make sure he’s lined up properly.

matt looks you in the eye as he pushes inside, taking his time as you adjust bit by bit. he lets out a moan when he’s fully filling you up, shocked by how fucking amazing you feel.

you know he’s stretching you out, but the small pinpricks of pain subside as you get situated.

“you can start moving now, just keep it gentle at first.” you guide him, voice all choked up.

he nods, his long hair almost tickling your forehead as he starts to pump in and out at a leisurely pace. you’re both groaning messes, and your hands go to claw at his back as he keeps pace.

“fuck, you’re doing so well matt.” you mutter against his chest, pressing open-mouth kisses to his collarbone.

he’s getting into it now, finding a good rhythm and relaxing his hips slightly so he’s not as stiff. your bodies are molded together as you move back and forth, and matt can feel you clutching against his cock with each stroke.

“m’not gonna last much longer, angel.” he confesses, clumsily stumbling over his words as he tries to calm himself down, to keep it in just a bit longer.

“that’s okay, babe. tonight is all about you.”

he’s growing sloppier, and matt leans in to kiss you passionately as he gets closer and closer. surprisingly enough, you can feel the pressure building in your own stomach, and you’re both whining into each others mouths as your tongues mesh together.

“right there baby, i’m close too.” you breathe, and you can feel his body trembling against yours, one hand slipping underneath your bra so he can run his thumb over your nipple.

matt holds it all back, drilling into you as hard as he possibly can with the energy he has left. he loves the way you’re scratching at his back, pulling him as close as possible as you both reach your peak.

“i’m—fuck, oh my god.” he tenses up, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he comes undone.

his own reaction is what sends you over the edge, and you ease into the high, letting yourself finish all over him as he slows to a stop.

“yes, matt, holy shit.” you sigh, and he pulls out carefully moments later.

matt flops down beside you, rolling to press his lips to your cheek. you turn your head slightly to look at him, capturing his mouth with yours for another real kiss.

“i think i could get used to that.” he says with a small grin as he pulls away, and your ruffle his hair lightheartedly.

“lucky for you that was just the first time of many. so how was it?” you ask him.

he’s just opening his mouth when a loud pounding erupts on the door, and you both nearly jump out of your skin at the disturbance.

“hey! open the fucking door, we brought you guys mcdonald’s!” chris screams through the barrier.

you both look at each other, still grinning, and matt can’t help but roll his eyes.

“well, being alone was nice while it lasted.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hii I like your writings! If you're still taking requests, can you write something about Eomer and the female reader? The reader is Aragorn's older sister. A ranger and a renowned warrior. After Eomer personally meets the owner of the stories he's been hearing for years, he may begin to fall in love with her. If you write, thank you in advance, if you don't I totally understand, no problem.~

A Sudden Spark

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild suggestive themes, slight canon-divergence, fluff, yearning, crush at first sight

Word Count: 1.4k

ao3 // main masterlist

Note: Greetings, Anon! I'm SO sorry it took me so long to get to this request. It has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute. Thank you so much for reaching out and dropping this off. I hope you enjoy this little thing I put together.

The Great Shadow is fading.

Evil is not gone. It is simply receding, lingering in the farthest reaches, waiting for the final blow of steel that will eventually come. There is a brightness that stretches over everything like a warm blanket draped across the shoulders. It is as if the Sun returned after a long sleep.

Éomer breathes deep, allowing the brilliance of sunshine and the floral aroma on the wind to fill his lungs. A peace settles over him, a gentleness that extinguishes all ache from the last few months. Éomer is battle-weary. He lost his uncle, and nearly lost his sister.

A few years of peace are what he and everyone needs.

Turning away from the Pelennor Fields, Éomer reenters the feast hall of Merethrond. Taking up residence beside a tall, white pillar, Éomer observes the crowd around him, drinking from his mead cup. Everyone is in a celebratory mood. As they should be.

The battle is over. Gondor has a king. And yet, there is still so much to do.

Éomer celebrates along with them. The mead is delicious if a bit strong, and he has a tender urge to experience life. A fair maiden with lovely lips and curves would surely satiate that subtle hunger.

But darkness and duty lurk in the back of his mind. The bright sunshine and fresh air only quieted it for a moment. Rohan is without a king. Éomer will take up the title. He has not officially been crowned but it will happen after all of this is done. From this point on, Éomer must serve his people in more ways than he has previously. While he has always been a ferocious fighter and a skilled rider, the politics of ruling will become a new burden.

Éowyn will support him, but for how long? She is currently tangled up in Faramir’s arms, the two of them moving across the floor in a dance that sends the bottom of her dress spinning. Her smile is wide and pure, cheeks lightly flushed from exertion and most certainly from the beginnings of love. Faramir’s smile is just as wide and bold, their gazes locked on one another as if there is no one else in the room.

No. Éomer will not always have his sister. It appears that he will lose her to another sooner rather than later. But he is not upset. If anything, he is happy for her. She deserves so much, especially after all they’ve lost.

That leaves only him. He too will need someone at his side that is more than simple counsel. Éomer will need a wife. That is the reality of things. Someone for him to love and to love him in return, to birth his children, to listen and give advice, and to assist in taking care of the realm. While it is a duty, Éomer deeply longs for companionship.

But all this responsibility subdues the celebratory mood. It slots his thoughts into all that must be done on his return to Edoras.

Éomer is happy for Aragorn. He is happy that Gondor has a king, and that Gondor will be a great ally. He is happy that Aragorn has reunited with the woman he loves, and that the lands are no longer scarred by darkness and death.

He takes a long swig of his mead, leaning harder against the pillar as he observes the dancers in the middle of the hall. The mead is strong and sinking into his bones. The buzz is sharp in his blood.

“Not joining in?” The feminine voice draws Éomer’s attention away from the dancing couples and to the end of his right shoulder.

Éomer freezes, his mead cup halfway to his mouth. The woman standing next to him smiles sweetly. Your gentle beauty is soft and inviting. As Éomer continues to stare, that sweetness morphs into amusement, and that one look sends a little shiver up his spine to slice through his heart.

When he doesn’t answer, you arch a single eyebrow, and Éomer hastily clears his throat.

“Not for me,” he admits, immediately drinking some of his mead.

“Dancing?”

Are you asking him? It feels like you are but Éomer hasn’t always been successful about understanding a woman’s signals when she’s interested. Usually, Éomer is the one approaching.

Éomer nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. He might choke on his words this time instead of a simple cough.

There is a stretch of silence before you speak again. “But you are celebrating.” You nod toward his cup. Éomer briefly glances at your empty hands.

“And you are not partaking,” he comments.

You laugh. “The Lord of the Mark is observant,” you tease, smile stretching toward your ears.

Another stretch of silence, and your eyebrows start to rise toward your hairline, head tilting slightly. Éomer blinks and then heat rushes up his cheeks.

By the Gods, he should have realized sooner.

Éomer pushes off from the pillar, straightening his shoulders and back, smoothing the front of his formal tunic. “Would you—”

“Yes,” you reply automatically, eagerly reaching for him.

Your hand is warm in his. Éomer follows, allowing you to lead, dropping his drink somewhere on a random table before entering the crowd of dancers. The music is upbeat and light. Éomer wouldn’t call himself graceful, but he did grow up learning traditional dances for this very reason.

But you continue to lead, and somehow that is comforting. Éomer is always prepared to take charge and make decisions. He does none of that now. You are smiling, clasping his hand, this stranger that has suddenly captured all his attention.

Perhaps forgetting for a bit is a good thing.

Éomer goes through two dances with you before the music slows a bit. Before, he hardly had a chance to speak, but now the two of you are close together, bodies pressed tight. He briefly glances over your shoulder and notices Arwen’s smile. She is watching him, and you. His gaze falls to the man beside her.

There is a slight frown on Aragorn’s face. Why is he frowning? Why does he appear concerned?

“You know my name but I’m afraid I do not know yours,” says Éomer, his face slightly tilted toward your own.

You give it casually and Éomer blanches. He knows that name. He knows who you are.

For the time he’s known Aragorn, Éomer has heard the stories from others, never from the man himself. He keeps you secret, not leaning into the tales told about you. You are his sister, the elder but not by much. But you are not soft and delicate, or so Éomer has been told.

You are daring. Adventurous. A fierce warrior and Ranger. You wield sword and bow with gracefulness and deadly aim. Éomer had heard that the Rangers came during the battle, but he did not see you. Then again, Éomer was far too busy trying to keep himself and his fellow Rohirrim alive.

The image he built of you in his head does not match the woman before him. The way you match his every step and how your hands feel against him, all speak to gentler things. Before him is a sweet and soft woman, but as he peers closer, Éomer notices the subtle shifts of your movements. There is a warrior’s grace to the fluidity of your body against his and with every leading step.

There is power within you along with the soft.

Éomer’s heart suddenly snags, stuttering before becoming a pounding drumbeat. When you turn your smile back to him all coherent thought leaves his brain except one.

She’d be a fierce queen.

The music swells and then melts away, and you release Éomer to step back and bow deeply. Éomer mimics the movement. When the two of you straighten, it is at the exact same time, and then you step far too close for a stranger.

“This is where we part,” you murmur, soft lips forming the words yet also sending Éomer’s brain into a foggy scramble.

You incline your head and begin to draw away. Like a lightning strike, Éomer moves into the space you just occupied, snatching your wrist to pull you close.

Your lips part in surprise, chest heaving slightly. Éomer’s gaze drops to the exposed tops of your breasts.

“This is where we part,” he repeats, gaze returning to your face. “For now.”

[starfinss]

Thanks for answering my ask!😊 i do have request/suggestion involving Cyno haha, what about a 🍋 scenario where Cyno, Al Haitham and a character of your choice get accidentally hard from having their S/O innocently sit on their lap? They try to hide it but they fail.. 🙈 if that would be alright with you!

This has been in my inbox for literal months, I am SO sorry.

I’ve been planning a trip abroad, plus I’ve had no ideas for this prompt until like an hour ago when I was playing Genshin and thinking of story ideas. Anyway, sure, I’ll write that. The character of my choice will be Lyney, because I’m working on his build right now and I’ve been sort of drafting a fic for him while I’m writing the Jing Yuan fic.

As always, let me know if any of you want full fics from this.

—𝘚𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.

— 𝘈𝘭𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮

— Unless you’re at home together, I doubt Alhaitham would let you sit on his lap for this very reason.

— Alhaitham is a man who lives my the rules of logic, and while I won’t say he hasn’t fucked you on his desk at work, he’d call those ‘momentary lapses in judgement.’

— Not that he didn’t enjoy them, though.

— He’s the type who likes to do things where the chances of being caught are low. He likes to draw things out, doing everything he can to make you feel good. And so, he prefers to engage in activity like this in the comfort of your bedroom.

— So, in instances like this, if you were to convince him to let you sit in his lap while you waited for him to finish up his work after everyone was home for the night, he might give in, just a little bit.

— Really, you just wanted to be close to him, maybe close your eyes for a while. He loves closeness as much as the next person, being near to the one you love is always nice.

— The risk of being seen in such a compromising position is low, which is a plus, and he gets to feel your warmth against his body as he finishes what he has to do for the day.

— But then you shift forward, nuzzling closer, and your body rubs against his just right, and oh Archons, he doesn’t have time for this.

— The way your body settles so perfectly over him makes his mind scatter to anything and everything besides work. The friction as you rearrange yourself against him is enough to make him feel like he’s going crazy.

— He hides it well, though. Alhaitham is good at keeping a blank face.

— As casually as he can, he shifts you back so you’re away from his growing erection, because he has to finish this paperwork before he leaves, and you’re so maddeningly distracting.

— But that doesn’t go unnoticed. You look up at him quizzically, and when you’re met with a blank stare, you shift back to where you were most comfortable, just to see his reaction.

— He sets his jaw, breath catching as he stiffens, unable to hide the way his body reacts to yours as you realize why he moved you away.

“Did I make you hard?” You whisper, a little surprised, “I didn’t even do anything.”

A quiet scoff as he looks at you fully, his self-restraint beginning to fray. Damn you for always having this effect on him.

“It’s kind of hard not to with you practically grinding against me.”

A sly smile overtakes your face, the innocent desire to hold him replaced with something much more lascivious.

“Would you like some help with that, Mister Acting Grand Sage?”

— Lips collide, and you end up bent over the desk as he holds you in place by your hips, the office filled with the sound of skin on skin and his low, pleasured groans as he fucks you, deep and hard, just the way he knows you like it.

— Needless to say, that paperwork didn’t end up getting done that night.

— 𝘊𝘺𝘯𝘰

— Like Alhaitham, I don’t think Cyno would really allow such a thing unless the two of you were alone in your own home.

— He doesn’t like breaking rules or doing things that could be seen as unbecoming, especially not in public.

— It’s because of the fact that he most likely wouldn’t engage in that sort of thing in public that I also doubt he’d try and hide it.

— In his eyes, things tend to be rather black and white, and he separates your sex life together from everyday life. He associates you sitting in his lap with other more improper thoughts that he shouldn’t be distracted by when he’s working or out of the house.

— It doesn’t change just how much he loves you, and even in daily life he expresses that in other ways.

— This is getting long winded and stupid but I want this to be interesting and not just “he’s reading a book and you’re in his lap,” which I could very easily do.

— I sure am a writer. Also this idea is stupid, but it’s also fun. I will probably write a full fic for it.

— But, anyway, the point I was making is, if you were to accidentally end up in his lap, then because of that association between you being that close and sexual activity, he might end up getting hard rather easily.

— While tracking a fugitive scholar together, the two of you end up being forced to fight when a group of Eremites come through, and the ensuing scuffle catches the attention of a herd of Sumpter Beasts.

— You and Cyno are confined into a small hiding space, and because of the limited amount of room, you’re forced to straddle him.

— You, of course, are wriggling around, trying to get comfortable in the awkward position, and it’s when you finally settle down onto his lap and he catches you by the waist to keep you from fully resting against him that you realize what has happened.

— He’s not meeting your eyes, simply looking out through the gaps in the rocks to watch the herd of beasts go by, but you can see his jaw tighten when you shift forward and out of his grip. When you move your hips down, a hand shoots out to still you with a grip that is nearly bruising.

“Stay still.”

— You’re a little surprised, he’s usually able to keep that sort of thing under control fairly well, but in retrospect, you can’t really blame him with all the moving around you were doing.

“Sorry,” you croak, suddenly mortified, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he says, “my body simply responded to the stimulation. It is always a possibility in such close quarters. Just stay still, please.”

— The rocks are digging into your knees, and despite his warning, you still try and shift for some relief, as slowly as you can, but he’s getting harder, and you can feel his hands scrambling for a grip on your hips and waist, and when he looks at you, the glint in his eyes is equal parts pleading and haggard.

— Slowly, teasingly, you roll your hips, and his head falls back against the wall of rocks behind it, eyes fluttering closed as you grind against him, the way he’s holding you so flush against him making the friction ever better.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, though his own protest sounds unconvincing as his voice drops several octaves lower, rough with lust, and especially so when his hips rise to press you even closer.

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” You ask, wanting so badly to kiss him, and instead of answering you, he catches the back of your head, crushing your mouth against his.

— The buttons of your shirt are undone, his mouth is on your breasts as you fumble for the front of his shorts, struggling to get your own off, and he simply moves your panties aside after you’ve wrestled out of your clothing before yanking you down, stuffing you full of his thick cock.

— Your cries of pleasure are lost among the hoof beats of the Sumpter Beasts on the path above, and you share heated breath as you ride him, his hand on your waist to guide you along the length of his cock.

— His head dips down to watch where he disappears inside of you, and you feel his grip tighten on your body, feel him twitch inside of you, making you whimper.

— He’s sure to make you cum first, his thumb on your clit, muttering sweet filth into your skin as you come undone above him.

— You end up in that ravine longer than you excepted, if you couldn’t tell.

— 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘺

— Unlike the two others, I don’t think Lyney would be as private.

— A conversation with my good friend Paprika made me realize that Lyney is probably the type of guy who goes for what he wants, and if he was interested in someone, he’d likely just show that interest without beating around the bush.

— So I wouldn’t be surprised if he invited his s/o to sit on his lap, just casually, no matter where they were.

— It’s not even sexual, really, he just likes being close to the ones he loves, and you’re no exception. He loves holding you.

— He’s very romantic, too, I’d say. He knows just what to say to get you all weak in the knees. He loves you so much. The poor guy doesn’t have many people in his life who have shown him the love that you have, and he absolutely cherishes you.

— He’d even buy out all the seats in one of the upper boxes of the Opera Epiclese, just to have you all to himself, able to hold you close and tell you just how much he adores you in the dark of the grand auditorium.

— But he’s only human, and if you were to move just right while sitting in his lap, he’s going to have a reaction.

A soft chuckle tickled your ear in the silence, and you felt Lyney’s hands on your waist, gently holding you in place.

“Stay still, please, darling.”

— He wouldn’t really try and hide it, it’s kind of hard to when you’re right there.

— He’d bite back a gasp as you shift again, almost teasing him, shooting you a warning look.

“Can I help with that?”

A soft laugh, slightly strained. “And how would you do that?”

You pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Can I show you?”

He kisses your forehead. “As long as it’s quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons, would we?”

— You slip down from his lap and to the floor, where you kneel, between his knees. He’s seated in the farthest chair in the box, well hidden from sight if anyone were to look his way. You wouldn’t even be visible from that vantage point.

— He realizes what you’re doing and shifts his legs farther apart to accommodate you, and when you palm him through his slacks, you get the pleasure of watching the way his jaw tightens, breath drawn in sharply through his nose.

— You make short work of his belt and zipper, and he shifts his hips to let you tug his underwear down just enough to free his dick.

— He curses quietly when you wrap your hand around him, and when you begin to slowly stroke, his head tips back against the chair.

— When your mouth presses against his tip, you feel one gloved palm against the back of your head, urging you forward, lacing into your hair when you take him into your mouth.

— You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth as you begin to bob your head, slow and steady, almost teasing, and you can hear him gasp softly above you, see him clamp one hand over his mouth as you watch him through your lashes.

— His grip tightens on your hair, groans muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you squeeze your thighs together, letting yourself moan around him, low and soft, and that’s enough to make his hips buck against your mouth. You know you’ll pay for that when you got home.

— You speed up, and his hand fists into your hair, desperate for any kind of purchase at all, and you hardly mind, especially when it leads to him shifting forward in his seat, forcing you to take more of him, gently guiding you back, only to fill your mouth once more.

— You loosen your throat and let him take control, using your mouth as he pleases, simply content with watching the way his face twists in pleasure, teeth digging into his knuckles as he tries desperately to stay quiet, and you can tell he’s close from the way he’s leaking into your mouth, his thighs shaking, grip growing borderline painful.

— He cums hard, gushing down your throat, and it’s a wonder he stays quiet during his climax, the effort of it all clearly taking a toll on him as you watch involuntary frustrated tears bead at the corner of his eyes and catch in his pale lashes.

— You pull off as he softens, licking your lips and making a show of swallowing, something he watches with heavy-lidded, hungry eyes.

— Cheekily, you settle back into the seat with him after he tucks himself away again, careful to avoid bumping against him.

— Yeah, you didn’t end up getting much sleep after you got home that night.

The fact that this took as long as it did haunts me and I am so sorry.

ALSO I GET TO SEE PAPRIKA IN PERSON THIS FALL YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!! I’m so excited, and I will probably cry.

[hughesmybaby]

Can I get uh…. A social media au of Tom Blyth x fem!rockstar!reader? Just a tad bit of self indulgence, I guess lmao.

But in all seriousness, I ADORE YOUR WORK AND IT IS STELLAR!! KEEP IT UP AND DONT STOP WRITING 🥰☺️👏

Tom Blyth x Fem!Rockstar!Reader

social media au

sorry this took some time but hope you like it! 🥺i’ll try to post more now that i’m feeling better and have some time. please continue to request, as always, my inbox is open.

REQUESTS OPEN.

yourusername

liked by tomblyth, hunterschafer and 500k others

my life nowadays

hunterschafer my angel

↪️ yourusername love of my life when I kiss you again

lilygladstone are you blonde or brunette? 🤔

↪️ yourusername both 🤭I change my mind

paulmescal 🙏

↪️ yourusername glad to see you today brother

gigihadid a rockstar as always

↪️ yourusername love youuu 😘

nuriaavegaa had the time of my life tonight girl!

↪️ yourusername so glad to meet you finally!

↪️ user wait if yn and nuria met..it has to be through tom right 👀she was with him in btk

harrycollettactor awesome show!

↪️ yourusername thanks bud! invite me to your next rave soon

callumhood rock on! 🤘

↪️ yourusername always!

tomblythfiles

liked by userfan76 and others

tom spotted at a restaurant in la yesterday

user he looks so good

randomfan wasn't yn on tour in la yesterday

↪️ ynfan yes she was 👀

user I saw him at this restaurant yesterday and I think he was sitting next to a blonde

↪️user that has to be yn omg

ynfans this has to be taken on a microwave lmao

user y'all better leave them alone if they're having a date if they want you to know they're together they will

↪️ynfan exactly

yourusername posted a story

tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and others

paradise.

russelltovey hope you had the time of your life mate!

↪️ tomblyth sure did thanks man! 🩷

carmenenemmi well deserved rest after a long strenuous shoot!

↪️ tomblyth absolutely! had the best time with you and the crew

nicholasgalitzine ☀️

jonathan.anderson my darlings

↪️ yourusername love you jonathan! had to wear your newest pieces you sent me

lukehemmings have fun!

liked by tomblyth

↪️ user wait yourusername had a song with him last year there’s got to be a coincidence how they know each other

yourusername

liked by ellefanning and others

rachelzegler girl i want you and imma have you 😍

↪️ yourusername oh girl stop it 🙈

↪️ joshandresgarcia excuse me?

↪️ rachelzegler look away 😗

user damn yn your bobbies

↪️ yourusername you like my necklace baby? 🥵

↪️ user always

conangray okay beach girl!

↪️ yourusername missed you so much, you should’ve come! we should hang soon

↪️ conangray wanted to give you two lovebirds privacy dw 😝

user that’s got to be tom blyth her new man

↪️ user yn single era over

↪️ user hot girl summer!

lilyrose_depp my angel

↪️ yourusername that’s you honey

sydneysweeney she’s glowing!!

↪️ yourusername my sunshine twin i love you

tblythfans

liked by user and others

a now deleted story by yourusername with tom earlier today

user theyre so cute

user before anyone calls them a cheater they’ve both been single for a while; y/n broke up with her ex last year while tom has been single for several months

↪️ user thank you

user how adorable for him to come out for her shows

yourusername

liked by billieeilish and others

just got home from vacation but here’s my treat…new single out friday. get him back.

avantika SO EXCITEDD PRE ORDERED IM SAT

↪️ yourusername i love you so much so thankful for you my love

hannahfkdodd 🩷

liked by yourusername

jbayleaf going to be amazing as always!

↪️ yourusername jonathan, oh my god!! ty

tomblyth my angel of music

↪️ yourusername my muse my inspiration

↪️user im so single 😭

charithra17 you’re so talented

↪️ yourusername and so are you!

[littlestarbigsky]

I need more chetsoda comforting cherry plssss

not gonna lie,, this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a MINUTE (it’s been like a month heh sorry anon) and truthfully i’ve had not one clue what to do with it,, but i got a few asks abt a chetcherrycola pregnancy aaand im so here for it

cw: cherry throws up at the beginning, nothing terribly detailed but it’s there

hope this is okay🩷

she couldn’t breathe. she couldn’t move. she worried that if she tried to stand up, her legs would give out under her.

“cherry, you can’t just keep going to school sick.”

“it’s just a stomach bug.”

“for two months?”

“i don’t wanna talk about it, marcia!”

cherry was on the floor of her bathroom with the door locked, the envelope from the doctor’s office clutched in her hands. she wished marcia was there, marcia would know what to do. even though they had been fighting, she should have called and asked, she probably would have come.

something in her chest tightened as she thought about how she would have to tell marcia about the contents of the envelope in her hands.

positive.

she could feel the contents of her stomach churning uncomfortably with something that had nothing to do with her two month stomach bug. she shifted over to the toilet just in time for the bile to rush up as her back arched.

she staggered out of the bathroom after rinsing her mouth out and grabbing the phone on her nightstand, dialing chet’s house and praying chief baker was on duty and wouldn’t answer.

“hello?”

“chet, thank god…”

“cherry? what’s up? are you okay?”

she wanted to tell him what was happening, to say anything, but she suddenly realized she didn’t even have words. every word she had ever learned had abandoned her. nothing could put this into the right words.

chet seemed to notice after a few seconds, “do you need me to come over?”

she nodded, before realizing that he wouldn’t see it. she gasped out, “yeah…”

he waited a couple more seconds before asking, “do you want soda, too?”

“yeah,” she answered, her voice cracking.

“okay,” chet answered, and cherry could hear him beginning to shuffle around the room. “hang in there, baby, we’ll be right there.”

the line clicked on the other end, leaving cherry with only the eerie dial tone for comfort. she set the phone back down and curled in on herself on the bed, her hand over her stomach and her knees pulled into her chest. she felt the tears coming, and didn’t have it in herself to stop them, so they fell.

it took chet and soda a while, much longer than they would have liked, to get to her house, and when they finally pushed her window open, she had been crying for so long that her throat ached and her eyes had gone swollen and red.

neither of them said anything at first. soda laid down in front of her, making a face in a vague attempt to make her laugh, but all he earned was a small pull at the corner of her mouth. chet piled in behind her, brushing her hair out of her face.

“rough day, darlin?” soda asked, scooting closer to her and reaching down to pull the duvet up and over her.

she shrugged, “i got a ninety-seven on my math test.”

“that’s awesome, baby,” chet squeezed her quickly, pulling the covers up the rest of the way over her.

cherry just let out another strangled sob, her breath coming in shallow gasps. she couldn’t tell them, she couldn’t.

“what’s going on?” soda asked, his hands gently holding hers, kissing her knuckles sweetly.

“i…” she gasped, and that was all the sound that was able to come out. she pushed the covers off of her and sat up, slowly crawling off the bed and walking over to the bathroom, where she had set the envelope on the counter.

she looked over it one more time, a tear landing on a different test level result. she folded it back up and came back into her bedroom, handing the paper to chet and wrapping her arms around her legs as she sat down.

he read over it as soda crawled over and wrapped cherry up in his arms. chet looked up after a few seconds, his eyes soft and scared.

“this is real?” he asked quietly and cherry nodded.

“what’s going on?” soda asked, his brows furrowing.

cherry found her voice enough to mutter out, “i’m pregnant.”

the stillness that followed those words was so tense it was like breathing the wrong way would snap it. cherry felt like she would never take a breath again, she didn’t care, she didn’t deserve to.

“we’re gonna have a baby?” soda asked.

cherry took a deep, shuddering, breath, “i don’t know, but there’s definitely one in there…”

chet shifted over to them, tears welling in his eyes, “it might not be that easy, coca-cola.”

cherry gave a quivering sob, “i don’t know what to do…”

chet took her face in his hands, “you don’t have to, baby, we can talk about it later, but you don’t have to decide now.”

she looked over her shoulder at soda and blinked out a few tears, “you said you’d love to be a dad… when sandy…”

“but i love you. that’s enough for me,” soda smiled, his own eyes wet and glassy.

“c’mere, sweetheart,” chet pushed the covers back and ushered cherry back under them, crawling back in behind her with soda in front of her.

chet threw an arm over her waist and propped her head up underneath the pillow with his other. soda shuffled closer, gently kissing her forehead and wiping away one more stray tear, and resting their foreheads together for a moment.

“i don’t wanna sleep,” cherry whispered, her hands crowding around her face. “…i can’t.”

“that’s okay, honey,” chet rubbed his thumb in a circle on her hip.

“we can just lay here and stare at each other,” soda giggled, and a smile finally spread across cherry’s face.

chet gave her a squeeze, “we love you, sweet girl.”

[codedparaiso]

@tapuhauko I ate and entire pizza by myself in five minutes.

[ txt ] it doesn't seem to me wise, young one. humans' stomach might go through severe pain if too much food is ingested at once and

mh. no, scratch that. professor turo wasn't at his peak when interacting with other human beings, but that does sound very robotic. a little bit too much. he closes his eyes, reasoning on a better message to send, just a few seconds that, though, for his processors feel like a much longer reasoning than usual. he backspaces the entire message, and starts typing a new one.

[ txt ] it doesn't seem to me wise, young one. humans' stomach might go through severe pain if too much food is ingested at once and [ txt ] oh, interesting! you must have been hungry. or maybe it was just very good? did you enjoy it?

yes, much better. much more human, though perhaps a little awkward.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Hello there! 👋I had this idea in my head for a while. The detective decides it's better to leave Gotham and Edward manages to convince her to stay by admitting his feelings for her. If you have the inspiration to write something like this I would be more than happy to read it😍🥺🥺

Your works are all amazing and I can't wait to read more❤️❤️

Don't Leave Me

Summary: You try to leave Gotham, but Edward stops you just in time.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warning: Spoilers for the end of Arc I of Cat & Mouse.

A/N: My dear @vas17sblog, I have to sincerely apologize for the fact that this ask has been sitting in my inbox since July. 💀 I am literally the worst. I'd always intended to answer this since I felt it fit better after the events of Arc I, but damn, I'm so sorry this took me months to get to. Please forgive me!!!

I also had a request to use the prompt "Don't leave me. Not like this" from an anon, which I combined into this request!

It was snowing.

Soft flurries came down from the sky, threatening to coat Gotham in a blanket of white. One bag was clutched tight to your side, the strap digging into your shoulder. The bus stop around you was quiet, not a soul in sight, as cars drove past on the icy roads. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the ticket for Metropolis, gazing at it for a long moment, before stuffing it back into your pocket, the paper rough against your fingertips.

The movers were already at your apartment. You’d let them in, instructed them to pack everything into boxes, and that was that. You couldn’t bear to do it yourself. You didn’t want to see all of your things, belongings you love, stuffed away into boxes and hauled into the back of a truck. You’d already rented a place in Metropolis. Hadn’t even cared to look at anything more than a few photos online. Hadn’t cared that the rent was high. The truth was that you just wanted out of this fucking city, and you were willing to pay a high price to get out. Everywhere you looked, your memories were plagued with all that happened with Beau and the rest of the GCPD. His words remained a constant echo in your mind, gnawing at your soul, ripping it to shreds. Ripping it right from your marrow and stabbing into your very flesh. When you closed your eyes, you saw his smug face. In the dead of night, you heard his voice. Saw Archer’s dead eyes staring back at you. The brand on your skin was still healing, and you itched at the skin around it almost absent-mindedly, like a new bad habit. A habit you couldn’t shake.

This decision hadn’t come lightly. You’d spent hours thinking about what you could do, how you could just get out of Gotham and leave everything behind. The truth was that you needed a fresh start. You need something else – something but the pain and agony rippling through you. Something more than the suffering, more than the pain. You didn’t know what you were going to do, or what Metropolis had in store, but getting out of here…it was the only thing you knew what to do right now. The only thing you wanted.

Edward didn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d written him a letter and dropped it off at the GCPD, and asked for the receptionist to deliver it to him. By the time he read and came looking for you, you would be long gone. And he couldn’t follow you out of the city, not without risking his parole. He would be made. He would be furious…but he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t he? He knew what you’d been through, seen it with his own two eyes. He had to understand…but he didn’t have a choice. You’d made your choice.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away, squeezing your eyes shut as you shivered against the cold. Where was the damn bus? It should’ve been here by now. Should’ve—

“Detective.”

His voice.

Your eyes snapped open and you turned around in time to find Edward standing there, his eyes wide, his cheeks and nose tinged pink from the chill. Soft flurries of white fell into his hair and onto his shoulders.

“Edward…” you whispered, panic rippling through you. How did he find you?

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice rough, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t you read my note?”

“Of course I did. Every damn word. Twice.” His lips curled back in a scowl. You recognized this look – just how mad he was.

You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat, as you glanced both ways down the quiet, still streets. Headlights from passing cars flashed in your eyes.

“It’s not coming,” he said. “I hacked into the bust depot station ad changed the route.”

“What?” you asked, turning back to him. “Why would you do that?”

“And why would you do this?” he demanded, yanking the note out of his pocket, shaking it in his white-knuckled grip. He took a step closer, redness crawling up his throat. “Why would you – I thought – I…” His words trailed off.

“It’s easier this way, Edward,” you said, your voice holding no warmth to it.

He scoffed. “Easier? For who? For you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running, my dear.”

“I’m trying to get away from all of this. From Gotham. Don’t you get that?”

“Are you trying to get away from Gotham? Or from me?” he asked, raising his brows.

His words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, blinking, your lips twisting into a scowl that matched his own…but maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. Some truth to the reality in which you were trying so hard to avoid.

“I…” the words lodged in your throat.

He took a step closer. “Don’t leave me. Not like this.”

The pain in his voice was raw and real. It was full of everything that made your heart shatter into a million pieces, breaking apart and shattering your very soul. Tears welled behind your eyes as your mouth fell agape, all words dying on your tongue.

“Edward…” you murmured. “I can’t stay here. I can’t—”

“Please,” he whispered, his hands shooting out to capture your face in his hands, his skin warm against your cheeks. Tears spilled from your eyes, and he wiped them away.

“Please don’t run away,” he said. “Not from me. Not from this damn city. Please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tilting your head slightly into his hand. You’d been so firm in your decision, so adamant about it, so desperate to get out of here and keep everything a secret from Edward – because you still couldn’t look at him. This was the first time you’d seen him in person in weeks, and this was exactly why you’d never wanted to see him in the first place – because seeing him reignited all those feelings inside of you, that aching warmth in your heart.

And now you were questioning everything all over again.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” he pleaded. “You’re strong. You’re not a coward.”

“But I’m so scared,” you whispered. You were terrified of what the future held, of what was going to happen next. It clawed up your throat and made itself known, shedding your skin and burrowing its way inside.

“I know,” he said. “But don’t let your fears control you. Don’t let it consume you.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” you asked, opening your eyes again to find him staring down at you, towering over you, his body heat enveloping you.

“No,” he said. “Not as long as I have you.”

You scoffed under your breath. “I have to go, Edward.”

“No,” he said, firmer this time. “I refuse to let you run.”

You looked away, back at the quiet streets. A thousand questions raced through your mind, but you weren’t sure what to ask of him or how to make sense of this. How were you supposed to move on? To go on after everything that happened? To walk these streets and pretend that nothing happened to you?

You met his gaze, hardened, his jaw set tight. His hands still cupped your face, wiping away the tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. But the longer you stared at him, the more the heartache in your chest only grew. God – this is exactly why you’d never wanted to see him: because standing here with him reignited all of your feelings and reminded you just how much you wanted to stay with him, to stay in the city you called home.

“After everything we’ve been through…why would you do this to me?” he asked.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said. “I just—”

“Don’t you get it, detective? How much I care about you? How much I need you in my life?” he asked. “And if you leave, I’ll…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t get the words out.

You looked away again, words dying on your tongue. His words were a knife in your stomach, twisting and twisting, pulling your soul from your body and stomping on it.

“Detective,” he said again, pulling your eyes to him again. “If you get on that bus, you’re not just leaving Gotham. You’re leaving me. And I cannot sit here and watch you disappear from my life. I won’t let it happen.”

“Edward…”

“I won’t let you run from this. From me. From us,” he said.

Your jaw fell open slightly, your vision blurring from the tears. “But I’m so fucking scared, Edward,” you whispered.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your face, as if he feared you would slip away the second he let go. His blue eyes burned holes into your own. The soft flurries increased a little, melting on yours and his warm skin.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I know, because I am, too. Every single day, I wake up terrified that I’ll lose you. That you’ll decide I’m not worthy of you anymore, that one day, you’ll come to your sense and realize I’ve just been a waste of your time. That one day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re better off without me. And now…now you’re proving that fear right.”

Your throat tightened. “Edward…”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes burning with anger. “You need to listen to me. You need to get it through that thick skull of yours, through that tiny mind I love so much, that if you walk away, if you get on that bus, I swear, I’ll never be the same again.”

“Edward—”

“Listen, detective,” he said again, firmer this time. “Gotham has been nothing but a warzone for me. A place I wanted to prove myself better than the rest of the idiots he walk these streets. A place where I’ve had to run and fight and manipulate to survive. I fought for control, to conquer, to ruin. And then you…” He shook his head, scoffing. “And then you had the audacity to walk into my life. “To make me feel something for you that I’ve never felt for someone else. To make me feel things I didn’t even think I was capable of feeling. And I don’t give one damn about the rest of the city, or the GCPD, or anyone else. You are the only thing I care about.”

His voice dropped into a low whisper. “Detective, I…”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the tears continuing to fall, trembling in his arms now as he pulled you closer, his breath a soft mist against your own skin.

“I don’t know what will become of me if you leave,” he continued after a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll just go on with my sorry, miserable life. You are the only thing that makes my life bearable. The only thing that keeps my reform something I want to work for – to be better for you. If I have to beg, I will. If I have to kneel in this damn snow and swear my life to you, I’ll do it. But please, for the love of God, do not get on that bus. Stay with me. Please.”

The weight of his words crashed over you like a tidal wave. His hands trembled, his breathing grew uneven, as if every part of him clung to you. Like the moment he let go, he would shatter completely, the pieces of him broken all across the snow. His gaze was unwavering, determined, filled with that look you loved so much, his blue eyes only drawing you further and further in. Your chest tightened painfully, like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist. Your own breath hitched in your throat, more tears streaming down your cheeks, which he only wiped away without hesitation.

In the quiet, you heard the deep rumbling of a bus down the road. You finally tore your eyes from his and looked away just in time to see the bus come to a rolling stop by the sign. The doors opened, lights bright and flashing, headlights illuminating the flurries in the snow.

“Please,” Edward whispered again. “Stay. Stay with me.”

His words crackled something to life inside of you, breaking through the walls you’d formed around your fragile heart. He was laying everything out, every vulnerable piece of himself, begging you not to leave…and God, how could you walk away from this? From him?

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stay here,” you whispered.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said without hesitation.

“You’re impossible, Edward Nigma,” you whispered. “You’re so selfish.”

“Selfish for you,” he replied, his lips curving into that smug smile you loved so much.

You shook your head, but pain rippled through you – but a sob tore from your throat, and before you could think, you threw your arms around him, burying yourself in his warmth. He clutched to you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you, his breath in your hair, at your cheek, as he trembled against you.

“Please don’t leave,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “I don’t give a damn about this city. But you…you are the only thing that has ever felt real.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, holding onto him like he was a life vest. The bust doors closed as it pulled away, continuing on its route. The ticket in your pocket was meaningless now. Because, deep down, you knew the truth: he had become everything to you. And even though you could leave Gotham, you could never leave him.

And maybe that was enough.

[butchreg]

little ! barnespaxton aquarium date headcanons !! ⤷ featuring : aut4aut 𓈒 both regressing 𓈒 fluff 𓈒

requested by 🤓 anon 𓈒 so sorry for the super long wait this request has been sitting in my inbox for almost 2 months (˃̣̣̥ ︿ ˂̣̣̥) 𓈒 please forgive me nonnie 𓈒 god i love these two so much especially as da Real barnes 𓈒 autism win ! this traumatized mormon missionary is inside of my head and me in my true form ! find my heretic masterlist here & my upcoming list here 𓈒

paxton & barnes will plan their aquarium visits meticulously 𓈒 both being autistic and paxton struggling with adhd it is often overwhelming for them to go out with only a vague idea of what they'll be doing 𓈒 while paxton is more go with the flow and tends to be more spontaneous , barnes will often shut down when denied structure 𓈒 it feels very daunting for her to go out without being able to anticipate anything that might get in her way 𓈒

although they've been to the zoo a few times barnes much prefers the calmer and quieter aquarium 𓈒 she loves to see paxton all excited at the zoo , running towards her favorites (the monkeys) and jabbering on and on about her extensive knowledge of all the animals but barnes will often have to take breaks that aren't required at the aquarium 𓈒 he's fond of its dimmer lights , the majority of the exhibits being indoors , and of the typical lack of screaming children there 𓈒

the two are constantly holding hands though barnes is usually covered by a long sleeve due to her aversion to skin on skin contact 𓈒 barnes likes to stop and read all of the placards on each tank but paxton sometimes can't help but get impatient , whining a little and tugging on his hand 𓈒 "c'mon barney !" she'll say , a slight whine in her tone 𓈒 "i wanna see the SHARKS !"

paxton will always point at all the silly looking animals or the ones with funny names and giggle 𓈒 barnes will stop to imitate the pufferfish causing paxton to snort laugh a bit too loudly 𓈒 she'll blush embarrassed but this never fails to bring a smile to the typically stoic barnes's face 𓈒

speaking of pufferfish , barnes is very passionately against the term "blowfish" 𓈒 knowing this paxton will point to the creature with a mischievous glint in her eye 𓈒 "look bubba , it's the blowfish !" she'll look over to see his offended glare and giggle 𓈒 regressed barnes tends to be nonverbal but she can see the chagrin at her struggle for words etched across her face 𓈒 "'m just kidding , silly ," paxton will say bumping barnes's hip with hers 𓈒

although paxton is always eager to see the sharks she can't help but feel a little uneasy when they're walking through the tunnels and she catches a glimpse of some particularly sharp teeth 𓈒 she'll cling to barnes's hand , letting out a small squeak as one swims just above her head 𓈒 barnes will raise her eyebrow as if to pose the question of, "scared ?" paxton will vehemently protest , sticking her tongue out at the other missionary yet her grip on his hand doesn't ease up until the perceived danger is passed 𓈒

paxton loves the penguins , playfully doing a penguin like shuffle up to the tank 𓈒 "look ! i'm a penguin !" she'll tell barnes excitedly and she'll nod enthusiastically , giggling at paxton's silliness 𓈒 paxton particularly loves the penguin shows , giggling and clapping at the penguin's activities 𓈒

they're sure to schedule in lots of gift shop time ! paxton will gush over each plushie and toy she sets her eyes upon , hugging them to her chest and giving barnes her best puppy eyes in hopes she'll buy her lots of items 𓈒 barnes is stern about only one thing but paxton always tries to push that limit 𓈒 she'll launch into an explanation about why she just has to have that penguin and this seal ! barnes will chuckle but he's quite firm 𓈒

paxton is not shy about using her paci in public , carefully picking one to match her outfit before each time they go out 𓈒 barnes on the other hand is quite shy about his regression , too shy to even own any real regression gear 𓈒 if barnes is especially teeny her fingers will drift into her mouth or a strand of dark hair 𓈒 if baby barnes gets to go to the aquarium she'll often stop awestruck in front of each tank pointing wordlessly for paxton to see 𓈒 barnes is especially struck by the jellyfish 𓈒

if barnes is really tiny she'll need breaks regardless of where the couple ends up 𓈒 she's shy about letting paxton know , not wanting to take away from the fun or ruin a good time 𓈒 paxton always seems to notice barnes's shyness , gently pulling her aside 𓈒 "you need a break , barney ?" sometimes he'll be too stubborn to admit it and paxton'll suddenly need a potty break herself 𓈒

[jfleamont]

Hey for your jily muse, out of order <3

Okay this is unforgivable, I know. You sent this prompt over two months ago. TWO. This ask has been sitting in my inbox since the 18th of January, so you probably won't even remember sending this but I promise you I've been thinking about it constantly and waiting to have free time to work on it and I have this tendency to leave things unfinished so this is me working through that as well lol

Without further ado, here it is ❤️

Out of Order - 744 words

Evans is in the boys' bathroom. She's in the boys' bathroom and she's crying.

One of her hands is gripping the sink, while the other fruitlessly wipes the tears that keep escaping.

She hasn't noticed his arrival, and Sirius doesn't bother clearing his throat. “I'm sure there's a perfectly logical reason for this.”

She makes a startled noise and turns to face him, her expression a mixture of anger and sadness. It's comical, really, so Sirius laughs.

“There is,” she mutters as she wipes her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. Her voice lacks the edge she usually aims at him— and at James, too, though Sirius can't help but notice a slight difference there.

He walks towards her and hands her his monogrammed tissue - he's never used it for this purpose specifically, but it has proved to be useful during the occasional prank or after a rough full moon - which she grabs immediately. She doesn't thank him, but he doesn't expect her to.

“Ah well, that's all I needed to know. It's not like you're invading my personal space or something.”

She lifts an eyebrow and eyes him curiously, looking more like her usual self. “I'm sorry, is there a plaque or an inscription that I haven't noticed? Does House Black monogram bathrooms as well as tissues?”

“Not that I'm aware of, no. Don't give my mother ideas, though, she might actually try to do that.”

She makes an attempt at a smile, but it quickly turns into a quiet sob.

“Apparently there can only be one crying girl per bathroom, and Myrtle has claimed the one across the corridor as hers so it's out of order,” she explains as she tries to regain control of her emotions, “and I thought this one was empty since everyone is heading down to watch the match.”

“You were right... for the most part. Why aren't you going then?”

“No reason,” she replies, her voice even, but she's not looking at him.

Sirius thinks he knows why. He suspects it has to do with the good luck kiss that Cornelia Kettleburn gave James at breakfast and how quickly Lily disappeared after that.

“Cool. I'm not going either. Fancy going to the Astronomy tower for a smoke?”

She looks taken aback. “I— wait, why aren't you going?”

In truth Sirius wants to go, and James is going to kill him for this, but lately he's been claiming that he no longer has feelings for Lily, and Sirius hates being lied to, so technically this is just payback.

“James got on my nerves so I'm skipping the match in protest,” he adds with a shrug and it's the truth, because it wouldn't be fair to lie. “So, are we smoking or not? Got a fag I can borrow?”

She's not an idiot: she knows this is an olive branch of sorts. Sirius can tell she's deciding whether to believe him or not; after a moment she sighs, and Sirius knows he's won.

“Haven't you got your own? Merlin, you're cheap,” she says while producing a pack of cigarettes from her satchel and handing it to him, a smirk on her face. He's glad to see that she seems to have calmed down significantly.

“I'm trying to quit so I stopped carrying them around,” he replies and grabs one, putting it in the breast pocket of his vest.

“Looks like it's working,” she notes as she fixes her appearance in front of the mirror and readies herself to leave the room.

“Absolutely.”

“Why are you mad at Potter anyway? Thought you two were inseparable,” she asks as she walks towards the door, a step ahead of him so that he can't see her face.

“Can't tell you, it's a secret.”

She huffs. “You lot are starting to sound ridiculous with all these secrets,” she whips her head towards him, her disapproval clear on her face, though he's almost certain this is just another way of disguising her curiosity. “Is this little group of yours a cult or something?”

“It's a counterculture,” he explains as he exits the bathroom, “how else are we going to beat those bigoted dickheads? The only way to fight a cult is with another cult.”

He's just joking, but the idea doesn't sound half bad to his ears.

Apparently Lily disagrees, because she snorts. Loudly. “Not sure about that logic but you do you, I guess.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“Anytime, Black.”

[whxre-bxby]

The recoms x reader with competitions sounds hilarious

I can totally imagine them having weird ass competitions Lol

Can't wait for that one

Yeah, this has been in my inbox for ages so glad to finally post it

"Pecking Order"

f. Y/N Recom x Recom Quaritch /Lyle /Prager /Mansk /Brown /Lopez /Ja /Walker /Zdinarsk

Masterlist

Summary: Being a recom soldier is difficult. Especially when dealing with the new instincts and needs the body requires. To keep his team sane, Quaritch comes up with a solution in which Y/N is shared with everyone.

Warnings: indication of smut, little bit of fluff, depressing ending, outrageously minimal wordcount (my apologies)

Word Count: 1590

(I'm sorry about how short this is, but I'm really struggling to write at the moment because I have so much going on)

(Once again I am pretending that Warren and Zhang don’t exist, I am sorry to those who like them but I really don’t.)

Being on Pandora is weird. It’s a whole new planet. But what’s even weirder is being on a foreign planet in a foreign body. Another human’s body wouldn’t have been so bad, but no, you’re blue now. You and your squad along with your Colonel have all permanently become Avatars. It takes a lot of time to get used to the changes. It seems like you discover something new about yourselves every day. Luckily it’s been almost two months since you woke up from criyo. 

It seems as though the foreign environment and new feelings have almost strengthened the connection of the team. You all got along when you had to before but now you feel like they are all close friends to you. 

One evening at dinner, Lyle had brought up how most soldiers used to have fuck-buddies to get through life on Pandora. Most of the team did back then too. Now, it seemed as though no one had even thought about it. You and the others didn’t exactly know how everything worked so the subject was ignored and brushed off. But it was definitely not forgotten.

It had quite literally been years since any one of you had experienced any form of sexual pleasure. That was suppressed in the beginning but the Avatar’s body language was more visible than a human's and it was more difficult to control and suppress emotions. 

At one point in time, all recoms including you were constantly tense and distracted. No one was able to fully focus during training anymore and Quaritch noticed this. He himself had the same problem and he knew he couldn’t send his squad out into the forest like this. You would die on the first day out. The Colonel would rather solve the problem in any way possible than explain what is happening to the General. The recoms are meant to be reliable and professional. What is happening to all of you is getting in the way of both those things. 

The Colonel forced everyone to attend his ‘emergency meeting’ even though you all had the rest of the day off. The atmosphere was thick and you found it hard to breathe even though the room was ventilated. 

Quaritch had made you all sit down to listen to him but your attention was barely on his words. Instead, you were subconsciously studying Mansk. He was calmly fiddling with his fingers but you noticed how strained his arms were and how far back he had his ears pinned. Nobody was relaxed. 

You also realised earlier today that you basically lost control of your tail. It’s just doing its own thing at this point and there is nothing you can do about it. 

The Colonel started explaining his recent observations of our behaviour and you immediately thought you were all being scolded. But you were wrong. 

“The only option I see te’ help us with our probem,” Quaritch says, inhaling deeply as if he were not sure how we would react. “Is to fuck it out.” 

Lyle snorts, thinking his superior is joking but Quaritch is dead serious. 

“Suggest otherwise, Corporal Wainfleet.” The Colonel says, sternly glaring at Lyle. I stare at both of them with wide eyes. No way is he suggesting this. 

There was some kind of argumentative discussion between the two but you have tuned out, blankly staring past Quaritch and at the wall behind him. This room had no windows, so no one could see or come in here because it was a recom only area. 

“Y/N.” Quaritch’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. You glance up at him while Mansk shifts his gaze to you. 

“You’re with me.” he orders, watching your surprised yet innocent face process the information. 

“No fuckin’ way.” Mansk interrupts. You stare at him now, completely surprised by his words. Mansk never objects or argues with people. He’s the best soldier when it comes to following orders. This is out of character for him. 

Quaritch doesn’t seem pleased by his words but once again to your surprise, he doesn’t put Mansk in his place. Since this isn’t a professional environment anymore, it seems as though the ranks between the soldiers don’t play such a big role. 

A few other recoms back Mansk up, not liking that the Colonel wants you to himself which still baffles you. 

But it turns out, they all seemed to have taken a liking to you. Most soldiers were ignorant and self-centred. You weren’t. You seemed almost naturally submissive to the others, especially as an Avatar. Something about you, perhaps your scent of strong pheromones, drew them to you.

So that evening, while you were being eyed hungrily by every single one of your teammates, they made a fair plan. In their free time, they would hold weekly competitions to figure out the order of who gets the most time with you. You were included and nothing was forced on you.

Since life in the RDA was really dull and colourless, these planned activities and competitions amused everyone. 

To keep it fair, it wouldn’t always be the same task to win, it would be changed so that everyone gets a chance. Otherwise, it would always be the same people with you. 

The first and most obvious challenge was a physical strength competition. This one lasted a long time and it went all the way from who could hold themselves in a plank position the longest to wrestling in the gym. In the third week, things took a drastic turn when Lyle decided to time himself to see how fast he could make you cum. Any technique was allowed and on the same day, everyone had their turn which had you not only fucked out but completely dumb and tired for the rest of the day. 

Z-Dog won that one and right behind her was Walker. Lopez was next and all three of them took great pride in it. It seems as though oral sex was the way to go.

Quaritch was always near the top and most often the first on the leaderboard in the physical challenges. Which meant you spent a lot of time in his room, which you honestly didn’t mind. While he was a brutal and cold-hearted man on the outside, he took care of you behind closed doors. Miles picked you up and walked you to his room when it suited the two of you. There, he took his time with you. Nothing was ever rushed because he wanted you to enjoy it as much as he did. 

Let’s just say, you always slept well after having sex with him and he took care of you in his bed, letting you sleep in it. You always left his room feeling satisfied in the morning. Lyle, Mansk and Prager were also usually quite at the top so when you and Quaritch would finish, they would get a day of the week each to spend with you. Sometimes, you had a few of them at once. 

Normally, you would feel bad about yourself for sleeping around so much but they made you feel like you are all that matters to them, so you rarely worried about that. You didn’t feel used, you felt loved. Something you had been deprived of since you left Earth years ago. 

Once everyone had a turn and the feral instincts calmed down, the competitions continued but they became more funny than serious. At this point, you were all just doing it for shits and giggles because there really wasn’t anything else to do. Except for finding Sully but that mission wasn’t ready yet. 

So the subjects of the competitions started to change along with everyone’s behaviour. The lust has been brought under control so you weren’t as tired anymore and only occasionally had sex with the recoms that needed it. 

A cooking competition was held which turned into a completely messy disaster. Mansk won it by far but at what cost? The oven had exploded because Ja refused to take the food out, claiming it wasn’t done yet. Lopez put metal in the microwave which really damaged the machine and you can’t quite remember how it happened but Z-Dog and Walker had accidentally set a curtain on fire. Instead of trying to put out the flames, they got angry because “What’s a fuckin’ curtain doin’ in the kitchen anyway?!”.

Another one was who could breathe oxygen for the longest because we were now adapted to Pandora’s air. Prager won. He said he used to dive regularly back on Earth so he was able to hold his breath for a long time. 

Brown and Walker almost lost consciousness. 

It kept going on and on like this because it was all the fun you had. Even when the mission started, the challenges were who could tame their Ikran the fastest, who could guess the Na’vi words correctly and who could properly land a fall from the Ikran. You started taking part in the competitions just for your own fun. It really had brought everyone together but eventually, all good things must come to an end. 

When you started encountering Sully, you began losing soldiers and once some teammates were gone, no one was feeling good enough to even suggest anything fun. From that point of, you all just wanted to finish your mission and end this.

Enjoy the bunnies instead of the abrupt ending :)

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @jatwow @numarusworld @number1gal @ikranwings